Tangled Up In Blue
by sunfish dunes
Summary: Two people find and lose each other repeatedly over the course of five years. Inspiration came from PenelopeWeaving, who had the idea of building a story around the lyrics of Bob Dylan's song "Tangled Up In Blue."
1. Prologue

_Before I type one word of this story, I want to tell you that this fic is not all puppies and rainbows, and in fact, there's more angst than fluff. Part of this story chronicles an affair, which I realize many people will have a problem with. I don't depict Gale in a nice way at all. That has nothing to do with how I feel about Gale in THG, but I flipped a coin between Gale and Gale and go figure, Gale won. That being said, this is a love story and Everlark at the core, so I hope that you'll stick with it. Inspiration came from PenelopeWeaving, who had the idea of building a story around the lyrics of Bob Dylan's song "Tangled Up In Blue." Because she's working on a few fics herself, she gave me the green light to tackle this one. If you hate it, blame her. I kid, I kid. Yell at me._

_Chapter warning: affair and violence_

"She was married when we first met

Soon to be divorced

I helped her out of a jam I guess

But I used a little too much force

We drove that car as far as we could

Abandoned it out West

Split it up on a dark sad night

Both agreeing it was best

She turned around to look at me

As I was walking away

I heard her say over my shoulder

"We'll meet again someday on the avenue"

Tangled up in blue."

**Present Day**

"We should get up. Gale will be home soon," Katniss whispers. Her breath is hot on my chest.

"I don't get to do enough of this. _This…_—" I stroke the skin on her side: shoulder to breast, down the ribs, looping around her belly button and back up. "—just lying here with you."

"Soon." Her sigh alone makes my eyelids flutter closed. "This will be over soon, Peeta."

I've heard this before and I want to believe her. I want to believe that after all these years we will put the bullshit behind us and try to make a go of it. But then again we're talking about Katniss and me. There's not much we've done right up until this point. If we're getting technical, what we're doing right now is anything but 'right.' Not morally, at least.

She kisses my mouth and scoots away from me, taking a light blanket with her. I sigh in frustration and ask, "When is 'soon'?" Katniss turns around and faces me, her face void of expression. This time I don't lose my resolve and I refuse to look away. "Katniss? Come on, when will this be taken care of?"

"When I can be sure that I can support myself." She turns away from me and begins rifling through an old dresser, trying to locate some underwear.

"What is so wrong with supporting each other?" I rub my palms over my face and plead, "Haven't you been asking that question since the day we met? What is so wrong about asking for help every once in a while? Katniss, I love —."

She sits on the edge of the bed and places her palm over my mouth to prevent me from finishing my sentence. "_Don't_. Don't say those words to me. Not now."

"When?"

"Soon." She leans over to kiss me again and I reach to cup her breast but she quickly stands and walks back to the dresser.

I flop back against the pillows and groan before rolling to my side to look for my boxers. Jesus Christ, my whole life is an exercise in frustration. I watch her shimmy into her panties and reach for a bra, effortlessly hooking the clasps behind her.

The sound of the front door opening makes my heart stop. Footsteps make their way down the hallway, walking closer to the bedroom. Katniss gasps and immediately covers her mouth with her hands, looking at me with wide eyes. I hiss, "Fuck!" and roll off the bed, grabbing my jeans. The reality of the situation is that neither one of us can leave the room without Gale seeing us. But that doesn't matter because the footsteps come to a halt.

We've been caught.

"I knew it."

Gale stands in the doorway, taking in the scene. I've managed to get my jeans halfway up my thighs and am frantically trying to finish the job, buttoning the waist. Katniss isn't so lucky: she stands there like a deer in the headlights, trying to hide behind a t-shirt.

"I knew you were fucking her!" His voice is lethal, perhaps rightfully so. The state of their relationship shouldn't matter: Katniss is his wife, not mine. The fact that they've been on the verge of a divorce, living separate lives, going in different directions and wanting different things…none of that should matter. It shouldn't, but it does to me. Because I love her even if she isn't mine to love.

Katniss pulls the shirt over her head and reaches for some shorts. "Gale, we—"

"How long have you been spreading your legs for him?!"

She begins to cry. "It's not like that—"

I plead, "Katniss—"

He lunges forward and catches me off guard, grasping my shoulders and slamming me against the wall. I'm momentarily stunned but recover in time for him to connect his fist with my jaw. Bending slightly, I stumble ahead and push my shoulder into his chest, just trying to put some space between us. I register Katniss' yelling for us to stop.

"She's mine, asshole! Mine!" Gale's fists are connecting everywhere: face, stomach, side.

I sputter and gasp, tripping against the corner of the bed and ending up on the floor clutching at my skull. Somewhere Katniss screams. I cough out, "She isn't anyone's."

"Gale, don't! _Please!_ He didn't—"

"Oh, I have no doubt that this was your idea." I open my eyes and see his feet moving toward her side of the room. "Did you wait a whole week before screwing him in our bed? Or did you fuck him before you even brought him here? Huh?"

"No—"

"Answer me!"

"You and I don't love each other—"

The sound of his hand meeting her face and her body dropping to the floor ignites something I have no control over. I push forward and hold Gale to the ground, pounding his face until her crying and pleading snaps me out of my trance. I look up and see her gasping and holding her hands to her eyes. I look down and see Gale, badly beaten and unconscious. I then look at my hands, registering what I've done.

"I… I didn't… He hurt you—" pushing off the floor and struggling to stand, I dizzily try to get my bearings. Walking to Katniss, I reach for her and help her up. I gently touch the bruises that are beginning to bloom on the side of her face; I'm sure I look almost as bad as Gale. It feels that way. I deserve it, she doesn't.

Tears continue to fall. "Peeta, we need to call Johanna and then get out of here. _Now._"

I nod dumbly and watch her grab some essentials: a few changes of clothes, some toiletries, a wad of cash from a shoebox in the closet and her messenger bag. I grab my duffel—it contains the only things I own—and the keys to the car before following her out the door.

"Jo, I need you to come over to the house. It's Gale—" Katniss covers her eyes with one shaky hand and takes a deep breath. "Things got out of hand and I need someone to make sure that he's okay. I know, okay?! But it's over." I can hear Johanna mumbling on the other line but can't quite make out what she's saying. "I can't tell you where I'm going. I'll let you know when I get there, but just do me this one last favor and make sure Gale's okay. _Please._"

I see her end the call and I can't help but ask, "Well?"

She breathes, "Jo's going over there now."

We drive in silence for a few minutes before Katniss quietly says, "Here, take this." She holds out a frozen bag of corn that she must have grabbed on the way out. I wave it away but she grabs my hand and holds the ice against my knuckles. I suck in air at the sensation.

"Are you—" I clear my throat before continuing, "—are you alright?" I try to glance at her in the early evening light but only catch a glimpse of her swollen lip.

"I'll be fine in a couple of days. You're the one who looks like you've been put through a meat grinder." She touches my temple and I wince. "You might need to see a doctor."

I shake my head and stare straight ahead. "Where should we go?"

Katniss doesn't answer so I keep driving to nowhere in particular. Due west.

…

Hours later she whispers, "You know we can't do this."

I grip the wheel in frustration and my sore fingers protest. I knew this was coming, just not this soon. Not the night we were found out, and not the night we were finally free to make a clean start.

"You know what, Katniss? I know that we can't be together now." I glance at the passenger side but she's staring out her window. "I know that you have to deal with the shit situation that we left back there. I can even say that I understand that now's not the time for us. But I need to know when. When can we be together?"

She simply answers, "Soon."

I pull into a rest stop to fill the gas tank and grab some food. Katniss is dozing when I walk to the convenience store to pay so I grab two Dr. Peppers, a pack of peanuts and some Swedish Fish—her favorite. Taking my change, I head back to the car and abruptly stop when I near her door, looking around. _Fuck._

Katniss is gone. Her bags, everything…gone. On the front seat is a napkin that I pick up and read. I tip my head back and let tears leak out of my eyes, simply overcome with emotion for the woman whose life is completely intertwined with mine. The same woman who views love as control and dependability as a weakness. The same woman who promised me that despite all that, we'd be together. _Soon._

I take one last look around and climb back into the vehicle. Wrapping the seat belt around my torso and putting the key in the ignition, I start the car and read her note again.

_Peeta, It's not fair to drag you any further into my messed up life. You're already in too deep and I'm truly sorry for that. I need to take care of some things, but I swear that I'll get my shit together and find you again, because you deserve someone who's whole. We've come this far; please hold on a little while longer. ~ Katniss_

I fold the napkin and put it in my wallet before putting the car in drive and pulling away from the pump.


	2. Chapter One

**Five Years Earlier**

Katniss curls her small hand around my wrist, gently lining up her thin fingers with the larger, purple bruises that someone else put there. Softly, so softly, she circles my wrist and lifts it, placing a kiss at my pulse point.

"Peeta, can you rotate it?"

I wince but oblige. It isn't broken, but it won't be very useful for awhile. I speak from personal experience when I say that sometimes sprains are worse than an actual break. At least a broken bone can be set and stabilized; it has a chance to mend while it's held immobile. A sprain just leaves you with nagging pains because of all of the day-to-day stuff you can't avoid.

Usually the only person who knows about an injury like this is the person who's suffered it. Hell, my own mother forgets what she's done within minutes of inflicting such pain. But Katniss? Katniss always knows. For someone who doesn't say too much, she's adapted by being freakishly perceptive.

I'm sitting on her bathroom counter while she tends to every bruise and abrasion. I watch with fascination—or maybe it's reverence—as Katniss navigates the drawers under her vanity for the supplies she uses with embarrassing regularity. Ending up here after a particularly rough day is part of our intricate routine. She steps between my knees and dabs at the congealing blood under my nose and at the corner of my mouth.

I don't cry, but there are some tears that escape. It _hurts_, dammit!

She winces, knowing that it stings. "I'm so sorry," she murmurs. "I'll try to be more gentle."

A snort escapes me and my hand reaches to swipe those stubborn wisps of hair away from her face. "You're not _hurting_ me. You're helping. Thank you." I lean in and she gently kisses me, trying to steer clear of the fresh wound.

A half hour later, I'm about as presentable as I'm going to get. _Of course_ this kind of thing would happen right before an Everdeen event: Katniss' parents have requested that we join them—and her little sister, Primrose—for a formal dinner tonight. My interaction with the couple has been pretty much non-existent, so something's gotta be up. I doubt that my pressed Dockers, button-up shirt and loafers will camouflage my messed up face, but there's not a lot I can do about that now. Katniss picked out the shirt for me, telling me that the color brought out my eyes. _Great_.

"So we need a story," she calls as she's brushing her hair.

I run off the standard list. "Purse snatcher? Defending your honor in the cafeteria? Being a klutz and falling down the stairs? Roughhousing gone too far?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of a bench-clearing brawl. Baseball is one of the things you and Dad have in common, so…"

"You know it's a little unbelievable to have something like that happen between high school teams, right?" She doesn't answer. "But I guess it's better than nothing." I craft some elaborate scheme up in my head involving getting hit by a pitch in back-to-back at-bats.

I'm sitting on the edge of her bed, fiddling with my cuffs, when she walks out of the bathroom. We've been together for almost two years and I swear that I'll never get over the fact that she entrusted me with her heart. My own heart skips a beat as I take her in. Sure, she's wearing a simple sundress that probably cost more than cotton ever should, but Katniss' outer beauty is nothing compared to her inner beauty. She's the kind of person who you can't help but think isn't real. How can someone so smart, considerate, giving, competitive, loyal _and_ beautiful exist in one body? Yet here she is.

"You don't need to be nervous, Peeta." She sits next to me and smooths my collar. "You're not on trial."

"It feels like it though." She looks questioningly into my eyes and I mumble, "I know that I'm not what they hoped for when it came to suitors for their daughter. Christ, my address alone probably makes them cringe, not to mention the fact that a bakery isn't exactly the kind of family business they had in mind."

"Peeta, that doesn't matter to me. Don't you see? All of this—" she gestures around her Pottery Barn bedroom "—isn't real. It's just stuff, no substance. It's technically not even mine. You're the one thing that tethers me to some semblance of reality. _Please_ don't let my parents' idea of what's good for me clutter what we have." I must not look convinced because she asks, "You love me, right?"

I nod. "I love you, Katniss." I pull her to me and whisper, "I love you so much."

"Then _please_ let that be enough." Katniss' words come out sounding almost desperate. I've noticed that a lot lately: she seems to be worried that _I'll_ be the one to bolt. I've wracked my brain for a reason why she'd think that, but I honestly can't come up with one. I mean, that's absurd…I'd never willingly leave her. We should talk about that sooner or later.

Katniss and I walk the length of the hallway and down the main staircase to the first floor. I've always fantasized about sliding down the intricate banister, but a) I'm trying to impress these people and b) there's some gargoyle carving at the bottom that would probably castrate me if I didn't jump off on time. We don't hold hands. In fact, we try to keep all public displays of affection to a minimum in front of her parents. I once put my hand of the small of Katniss' back and her mom almost had a coronary. Best not to tempt fate, right?

It doesn't really bug me that Katniss and I can't be more touchy-feely. It's not our style to grope each other in some sort of territorial way. Besides, we don't have to prove anything to anyone: the only two people we care about reassuring are the two of us. That and what's done behind closed doors _more than_ compensates for the chaste front we put out there.

We've reached the dining room and Katniss quickly whispers, "Everything will be fine."

I nod and whisper back, "I know. But kick me if I do something stupid." She smiles at my attempt to lighten the mood.

As if on cue, Mr. and Mrs. Everdeen, as well as Prim, turn to us with expectant glances when we walk into the room. I resist rolling my eyes when I see that Prim's are practically popping out of their sockets once they take in my appearance. _Oh well_. Mr. Everdeen refills his glass and encourages us to join them for a quick drink.

"What can I get for you, Peeta?" He raises his eyebrows; _don't take the bait_.

"A Coke would be great, thanks." I clear my throat. "On the rocks, of course."

Mr. Everdeen lets out one "Ha!" and hands me a tumbler. Katniss is poured a Sprite without being asked what she'd prefer to drink, but she accepts it anyway. I know for a fact that she prefers Coke, too.

"My goodness, Peeta," Mrs. Everdeen purrs. "It certainly looks like you ended up on the wrong end of an argument. What on earth happened?"

_If she only knew_. "Actually, we had a bit of a run-in with Catholic Memorial's baseball team. Their pitcher beaned me and we charged the mound."

"Was that really necessary?!"

"Now, now, Claire. It's part of the game!" Mr. Everdeen motions for us to take our seats—Katniss and Prim sit on one side of the table, their parents each take a seat on either end and I'm left with the lone chair opposite the sisters—so that we can eat salad made with weird greens that are impossible to stab with a fork. The dressing stings my lip.

Portia, one of many staff members employed by the Everdeens, soon takes away the plates and brings out the main course while Prim drones on and on about a school play. Occasionally I catch Katniss looking at me and I try to smile without being too obvious about it.

"—and I just _know_ that if I practice all summer, I'll get the role of Dolly—"

"Primrose, we can talk about that later," Mr. Everdeen interrupts his daughter and puts his utensils down. I look at Mr. Everdeen, who calmly wipes his mouth on his napkin and glances pointedly at his wife. I guess dinner's over. "We'd like to have a conversation with your sister and Peeta here."

Prim is clearly annoyed. "Yes, sir."

"Well, Peeta, I feel as though we hardly know you. Katniss' mother and I thought it was high time to familiarize ourselves with the young man who spends so much time with our oldest." He clears his throat and takes another sip of whatever it is he's drinking. "We, ah, well we know that your family owns that quaint little shop down on Capitol Drive. But what about you? What are your life plans?"

"Life plans, sir?"

He motions with his hands, trying to get me to talk and explains, "Yes. What is it that you want to _do_ with your life? Where will you be going to college? How will you support my daughter?"

"Dad!" Katniss' knife drops onto her plate. "We're in high school for god's sake! Why do we have to talk about this now?"

"Because I have a stake in your future and I intend on making an unprecedented investment in it. The first rule of successful business is to never invest in something blindly." Turning again to me, he asks again, "Well, Peeta? What's on the horizon for you?"

_Shit_. "Well, ah, I'd like to major in art—" I can see that admitting that was the wrong move so I rush to amend it "—um, specifically graphic design." I'm such a _liar_. "There's a real push for creative online marketing. Social media's getting pretty big. Very lucrative. Website design. So yeah." _Fuck me._

I swallow some water and look at Katniss' dad for a reaction. He's looking at his wife so I throw a curveball, literally. "And I'm still hoping to walk on to the baseball team. I've talked to the coach a few times and I might get a shot there."

"Well that sounds fun, Peeta." Mrs. Everdeen has a strange ability to make everything she says come out as a disinterested question. "So where does that leave you and Katniss?"

I'm legitimately confused and look at Katniss briefly. She wears a frown, too, so I ask, "What about us?"

"How will you balance the demands of a college education and your budding relationship?"

I feel like that was a diss. No, I _know_ that was a diss. Sure, Katniss is my first girlfriend and I'm her first boyfriend, but we've been dating for awhile now. It isn't like we're 10-year-olds offering each other ring pops at recess or something.

"I'm not sure I understand? Katniss and I are committed to making this work." Time for the big guns. "Mr. and Mr. Everdeen, I love your daughter and I'll do whatever it takes to support her. I promise you that."

Katniss smiles so I give her a smile, too.

"Then I'm sure you can understand how concerned we are when it comes to your relationship. We love Katniss and certainly want to see her reach her full potential—"

Now she drops her fork. "Can everyone _please_ stop talking about me as if I weren't in the room? I'm right here!"

Prim laughs nervously and then a hush falls over the table. Mr. Everdeen leans forward and rests his chin on his hands, looking at his eldest daughter. Katniss looks straight at him, desperately trying to hold his gaze.

"Be careful, young lady." He stares at her until she looks down at her plate. "But as long as we're on the subject, I spoke with Jim today. I think we can pull a few strings to get you a single in Grays Hall. How would you like that?"

Harvard. The bane of my existence, and Katniss', too. Her dad has had his heart set on Katniss attending his alma mater ever since she was a toddler. Once upon a time Katniss wore Harvard sweats, claiming that she was going to Harvard Medical. She was eight, but he's clung to that shred of hope like a lifeline. What sucks (for me) is that Katniss is brilliant and she got in without her dad's help. I don't want to be separated from her, but I also know that she deserves the best. And Harvard is the best. She _should_ go.

Me? Let's just say I'm more of a state school kind of guy…um, after being waitlisted for a couple of months.

"Dad, we've talked about this. I don't _want_ to go to Harvard. I want to go to the UW. They have one of the best research programs in the country."

"The UW is not Harvard. Not even close. You, my dear, are going to Harvard and that's final."

"What do you mean 'final'?" She looks from her father to her mother and back again. "This is my decision to make!"

"Katniss, if you have any expectation of your mother and I supporting you in any capacity post-graduation in June, you _will_ be moving to Boston."

"And if I don't?"

"Do you really care to find out?" He looks at his wife pointedly and then calls for the wait staff. "I'm pretty sure I smelled chocolate cake. Portia, I think we'd like dessert, please." Conversation closed.

I'm not sure I can stomach another course but I pick at the cake to appease everyone. Katniss doesn't take a bite; she looks like she's plotting a murder. Once I put my napkin on my plate, she asks to be excused. We get up and awkwardly start walking toward the door.

Mr. Everdeen calls, "Peeta, I hope you can appreciate where we're coming from. Our daughter is our number one priority." What can I possibly say to that?

I turn to face Katniss' family and say, "I understand. She's my top priority, too."

By the time I catch up with Katniss, she's grabbed her keys and is heading outside. I let myself in the passenger side and we take off for our spot: the end of a long pier on Wind Lake. Neither of us knows who owns this bit of frontage, but we've never seen anyone else out here and we've never been caught so we just sort of claimed it. She turns up the radio, effectively ending communication for now.

Eventually we pull up to the shore and she cuts the engine, quickly opening the door and slamming it before running to the end of the dock. I take my time, hoping that she'll cool off a tiny bit.

Katniss is many things, including temperamental. She's always had this streak—I hesitate to call it irrational, but it's the only word that's coming to mind—that you just try to steer clear of. As soon as the flip is switched, she's frantic and you can't calm her down to hear reason. She works herself up and dwells on the details—every word, every gesture—and replays them over and over, getting more and more agitated. Half the time you don't really know what's upset her; the only thing to do is wait it out and hope that she hasn't done or said anything irreparable. I'd be lying if I said that this personality trait didn't put me on edge a little. Rarely have I been on the receiving end of it; nine times out of ten it was something that her parents did to set her off, but still. It can't be healthy.

She's kicking her feet in the cool water when I finally reach her. Sitting next to her without a word, I reach for her hand and squeeze it.

"Don't make me try to feel better. It won't work."

"They mean well, in their own, twisted way."

"Please don't defend them. It's bad enough to sit there and listen to everyone talk about me—no, talk _over_ me—I don't need to hear about how all of this is for my own good."

I just hold her hand and run my own feet through the water as she works through her mind. The prospect of a long-distance relationship for a few years isn't something I'm excited about, but Katniss doesn't have any savings outside of her parents and I will have a hard enough time paying for the first year of in-state tuition while living at home, let alone trying to do the same at a school out in Boston. But more than that, I want Katniss to have the best. I don't want her dredging through however many years of school, working night shifts at some shit job just because I want her close by.

"I've always wanted to visit Boston, you know. I can save up and visit—"

"Peeta, I'm not going!"

"Katniss, I don't want you to go either, but we don't exactly have a legit plan B—"

"I'll put school off if I have to, but I'm not going out there. They don't own me. I can still enroll at the UW in the spring and find work until then."

"Maybe you should just take a little time to think this through. I can't leave here and according to your parents, you can't stay."

She jumps up and starts to pace. "They don't _want_ me to be happy! They see that you make me happy and they want to fuck with that! Just because they have some sterile marriage doesn't mean that I want the same!"

I stand up, too, wracking my brain for a bright spot. "We can still make this work. You can go to Harvard and we'll both get jobs. Maybe we can make enough so that you can transfer back and not be so dependent on your parents. If we can just get through the first year—"

"Wait, the first _year_?! Peeta, I don't want to be gone for a year. Do _you_ want to be apart for that long?"

"Of course not! You know that the idea kills me—"

"Does it? I mean, you're taking this pretty well…"

"Oh _come on_! Don't throw that in my face! You _know_ I'd do anything for you; I love you and I want to be together. But I don't know what the hell to do about this, alright? I don't have parents willing to spend a dime on me, let alone hundreds of thousands of dollars on a diploma. Sometimes I think I'd kill for a little bit of what you have, you know that?!"

"You want it? Here, take it!" She shoves my chest and raises her hands in the air. "Take all the bullshit that comes along with being an Everdeen, too. No, no, please! Be my guest! It's not _my_ life, not at all. I'm just a puppet to them."

We just stand there staring, huffing out short breaths. I know I'll be the first to break. I'm _always_ the first to break. "Okay," I raise my hands in surrender. "_Okay_. We both need to calm down. Just take a deep breath. I'm not the bad guy, Katniss. Not by a long shot."

"You said that we were in this together." I groan and run my fingers through my hair, pulling at it a little. _God_, she can take shit to extremes. "So why can't we work on a solution that keeps us together?"

"I'm trying to, okay? What do you want me to do? Hide in your dorm room and hope that no one catches on?"

She grabs her sandals and walks the length of the pier back to the car. I run to catch up, not interested in missing my ride back to town. Once we get to the car Katniss slips into the backseat and I follow her. She's already loosening the knot at her neck that keeps her halter in place. I watch her strip for a moment but snap back to the present when she begins unbuttoning my shirt. Soon enough I've pressed her into the leather-upholstered bench and am trying to keep her still enough to kiss all of the places I need to reach: her breasts, navel, collarbone, knees, lips.

Katniss reaches between us and strokes my cock, making me lose my concentration momentarily. We shouldn't be doing this. I mean, of course I _want_ to do this, but Katniss' way of coping is either to freak out or fuck. Always extremes with her.

"No, just— Just wait a little bit," I gasp. She laves at my earlobe and I swear it's got a direct line to my groin because I can't see straight. "Katniss, come on. Slow down."

She huffs her impatience and whines, "I don't want to slow down. I want to _feel_."

I grab her hand and hold it to my chest. "Then feel this." I'm panting and my heart is beating hard, partly out of exertion and partly out of frustration. "I love you, okay? I love you. But you've got to stop and listen."

Katniss looks away and I sit up, bringing her with me. "Katniss, look at me. Please." She does, her eyes laced with defiance and annoyance. "We need to face reality here. That doesn't mean that it won't suck, but we can deal with this for a year and make plans for one of us to transfer, okay? We can get through this, too."

She looks down and tears spill over her cheeks. I hurry to wipe them away and tilt her head back to catch her gaze again. What I see makes my heart drop to my feet: the deadened look that escapes her eyes scares me. I've seen that look before and it usually precedes a complete shutdown on Katniss' part.

"Katniss, please don't do this."

I think she nods slightly before pushing forward again, capturing my lips with her own. She quickly straddles my hips and grinds herself to me, eliciting a moan from deep in my gut. I grip her hips as she rises slightly, guiding our bodies as they slowly join together. _God_. Katniss is on auto-pilot and it kills me; she purposefully rides me, her face over my shoulder and hidden as I try in vain to slow this down. I don't want her to leave, I don't want this to end, I don't want to lose her.

Somehow, I feel like I have.

_Hold on._

There's a tightening in my gut and I know that I can't. "Katniss, I'm going to—." I grunt and she keeps up a relentless rhythm until I still her thighs with my palms. I need to catch my breath but my fingers find where we are joined and I begin to stroke her to her own release, nipping at her neck as she whimpers. Her involuntary cry and clenching slows me down as we breathe heavily. Every inch of me is content and warm until she pulls away, looking for items of clothing and leaving me with goosebumps.

"We should probably get back," she murmurs. I sit there, completely boneless and unable to do much of anything. _What just happened?_

"What just happened?" Katniss looks at me and smiles at my question but the smile doesn't reach her eyes. I ask again. "What was that?"

"What do you mean?" She's avoiding my gaze. "We've had sex before. Many times, actually. Come on, Peeta. We should drive back before someone cares that we're gone."

A stone settles in my stomach, but I slowly gather my thoughts and my clothes. This has happened before and I have to trust that it will work itself out. I grip her hand and bring it to my lips, trying to will her back to me. "I love you."

Katniss pecks my lips and whispers, "I love you, too." Pulling her hair back into a messy ponytail, she opens the door and asks, "Will you drive?"


End file.
